Hush
by halfdrainedcup
Summary: There are things that go bump in the night... and they only come out when they're very, very hungry. Captain Jack Harkness is in the dark; he doesn't know where he is or what he's meant to be doing, but there are people depending on him and he needs to get moving if he's going to avoid ending up on the menu.
1. Chapter 1

He ran, pausing only to slam the door to his ship behind him, then carried on, leaping up to the central console. He lay hands upon the ledge, mindful of the controls, bent his head and breathed heavily. His hearts were racing.

"What?" He looked up, apparently addressing the tall column extending from the middle of the console before him. "Nonsense! I just need to catch my breath."

He pulled himself up straight, his breathing now returned to normal. His impressive eyebrows lowered over dark eyes as a thought came to him. He began patting at his black jacket pockets, his pants, then plunged hands in, his black jacket flapping about, red lining flashing as he searched top and bottom and came up empty. He must have dropped it.

He sighed, wincing, looked to the floor for a second, then set his face in grim determination and turned his attention once more to the door. And then he ran, pausing as he flung the door open.

"I'll just be a minute."

He closed the little blue door and ran into the darkness.

...

The light was dim, the room quiet but for the muffled sound of shuffling feet. Marion felt herself drawn forward by something. There was a door ahead and before her a line of people, scared and confused, edging their way into the dark. Around them she was aware of a presence, as though something were moving she couldn't quite see, almost like shadows or blurry, far-off images in an out-of-focus photograph. Glimpsed out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't seem to keep them in view. She got the impression of size and power, and yet they were ill-defined, she couldn't say what shape they took.

They were standing, Marion and these people, in a big room. Reaching out one hand she felt the smooth surface of a painted wall. Beneath her feet she guessed at tiles, little dips suggesting joins between the pieces.

There was a loud rumbling sound that she could feel through the soles of her boots, and around her the shadows fell still, as though waiting. Then came clanking and more rumbling, and then the room was quiet once more.

Even as these details fell into place in her mind, it occurred to her that she had no idea where she was and she could not remember how she'd come to be here. It had been late and she had been standing at an intersection awaiting the little green man to signal safe crossing. It had been cold, and she recalled wishing she'd worn a scarf against the sharp Autumnal wind. The street light had been out and it was dark, no-one else around, and then suddenly she was here, standing in line, shuffling forward with the others.

She felt something then, a little hand reaching for hers, and looking down she saw a boy, maybe 8 or 9 and dressed in a sports uniform of some kind, bright green shirt and shorts, white sneakers and long socks with a navy blue jacket over the top and green cap on his head. He did not look up at her, his attention focused on those same shadows, but he clung to her hand so tightly that she knew there was no point trying to loose herself.

Ahead, a sudden outburst punctured the quiet; someone was crying. A sob at first and then rising in volume and insistence. The squirming shadows stopped once more and Marion perceived a shift in their attention to the source of this disturbance. There came, also, a loud, low humming noise, as though the sound itself aggrieved them. Ahead, someone hushed the offender, but as the creatures moved in - there might have been one or many, there was no way to count - the humming grew louder, filling the room and vibrating through Marion's body. The boy gripped her hand even tighter.

Recognising this distraction and looking about her, Marion saw that the door at her back was ajar and there was nothing barring the way. She pulled at her little companion, not allowing a second's thought for delay, and dragged him toward this exit. He came quite willingly and as they stepped out into the next room they found another darkened space, but this one empty.

Bending down quickly, she raised a finger to her lips. He must be quiet. She pointed across the room to another door. They must move.

The boy nodded his understanding and they ran.

They found their way in the dim light that came from some source Marion couldn't make out. There was not much to see in any case. Each room they came to, each hallway, was empty. They ran down the first flight of stairs they came to, Marion guessing that their best bet of escape would be the ground floor and she had some sense that they were higher than this, though for all she knew they might have already been below ground.

It seemed like a house, large and airy and completely uninhabited except for those shadowy creatures that set her hairs on end, and the people lined up in that room, moving toward that door. There was no furniture, no pictures or ornaments. Inside one room they came to there was a fire place, completely clean and dust free. There was a window, at which Marion pulled herself up onto her tip toes to try and see out, but it was boarded up and no matter how she strained or which angle she tried to look from, she could see nothing.

Tugging at her hand to get her attention, the boy motioned for her to try and pull the boarding away. Marion nodded, clutching at one edge of a board with her fingers and pulling as hard as she could. She put one boot-clad foot to the wall to gain greater traction, hiking up her skirt a little over her tights as she did, but it still wouldn't budge.

She stopped herself mid-sigh, mindful of the noise, and put her fingers to the board once more. She tugged, and this time there was some give, but also sound, far too loud in this quiet space. She pulled back quickly, looking to the boy who clutched at her hand once more.

As if in answer to this noise a loud humming began from somewhere in the building, rising in volume, coming closer. Eyes wide with fear, the boy was already moving, urging her to follow him out of the room and so they went, pausing in the doorway and then running on when they saw the way was clear.

They came to an intersection. Ahead they saw another staircase heading down and the boy began to walk, pulling at Marion's hand. At once, she yanked him back, swinging him in behind her, conveying her admonishment with her eyes. She raised a finger: wait.

He nodded, hanging back as she peered carefully round the corner. Here was another hallway and there, at the end, she made out movement. Something dark, wavering at the edge of her vision. She pulled her body back around the corner, breathing slowly and waiting. There was no humming.

Carefully, she looked again. The interruption to the darkness, the extra black of this strange figure, was still there, but apparently unmoving. She wondered: If they were quiet, maybe they could get past.

She crouched before the boy, hands on his shoulders.

We, she signalled by pointing, will go there, she pointed to the stairs behind her, quickly, she made two legs with her fingers, moving them rapidly before her. The boy nodded.

They had only to get across the hallway without being seen. Holding tight to the boy's hand, Marion took a deep breath and did not move. The urge to run could not quite overcome her fear, her heart rate climbing all the while, and it left her immobile, unable to move at all. She could get them both killed. She didn't know what these creatures were or what they intended for them, but Marion couldn't imagine it was anything pleasant.

The boy nudged her. Looking down she met his eyes. He smiled at her, inclining his head toward the stairs. Let's go, he seemed to say.

She breathed again, now resolved, and then they went.

She kept her eyes on her objective, resisting the urge to turn and look, knowing that it would only fuel her panic. They moved quickly, feet stepping with exaggerated care over the worn floor boards, the sound of every footfall amplified in Marion's mind. It was too loud, they'd be discovered!

They paused at the top of the stairs, once more the only way was down, and she looked back along the hallway. From this angle she could not see the end or the darkness that suggested at one of these strange creatures and she supposed that it probably waited there still. The boy urged her on and they descended.

At this new level they walked down another hallway. Most of the doors here were closed and Marion did not want to risk making noise by opening them. She pulled at the boy's hand when he paused, but then he freed himself, slipping away from her. She turned, alarmed at what she might find; all was still and quiet, they were alone, but the boy had moved away from her and was bending over.

She watched, anxiously checking over her shoulder, as he stood again and returned to her, something in his hand. He held it up before him, smiling brightly, then offered it to her, indicating with a shrug of his shoulders and lifting of his eyebrows that he didn't know what it was.

She took it and brought it close to her eyes to examine. It was long and thin, round and metal, some sort of tool, she imagined, but like nothing she'd ever seen before. It fit neatly into her hand and though it had some weight to it, more than she might have expected on first sight, it was not heavy.

She couldn't say why, but she slipped it into her jacket pocket, smiling at the boy and leading him on again.

...

The room was empty. And then there was a man. A tall man, apparently of middling years, broad-shouldered and very confused, but not for long; Captain Jack Harkness would settle for nothing but mastery of any situation. For now, his mouth was open, caught mid-sentence in some speech, and he snapped it shut again, frowning as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He lifted his arms before him as though casually preparing to defend himself from attack and then spun around on the spot, the solid, black boots sticking slightly on the floor as he did, his long coat flaring out around him.

"What the hell?" He shook his head, turning again more slowly this time, walking the room and peering about carefully. It was just a room, small and pokey with no identifying features, no window, no furniture, no decoration of any kind. There was a door, wooden with a brass knob and firmly shut.

He sighed, hands on hips and thought to himself for a few seconds. Then, remembering something, he pulled a folded up piece of paper from his pants' pocket.

"OK, let's see if this tells me something useful." He spoke to himself, unmindful of the noise.

The crinkling sound of unfolding paper seemed unnaturally loud in the room and he paused, looking about. "Weird." Smoothing out the paper he found writing and began to read aloud.

"Be quiet. Don't make a sound." He looked up from the sheet, rolling his eyes, then went on. "Seriously, don't read this aloud. They will hear you."

He stopped as a rumbling and clanking noise started up. He looked around nervously, then read on silently.

_And if they hear you they will come for you. Keep moving. There are people relying on you. The doors are noisy, the floor boards creak - pick the right time to move. But you must move. Quickly. But quietly._

He shook his head, face screwed up in irritation. What had he done to deserve this? He looked over the note again, turning the paper in his hands to see if there was more. He set his eyes on the door and folded the paper up again, wincing at the too-loud sound of it.

He walked to the door and put a hand to the door knob. It creaked as he began to turn it and so he stopped, pulling his hand away quickly and waiting anxiously for some response. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck a little from side to side, stretching. He didn't like to wait.

He tried the door again, this time turning it ever so slowly, a look of intent concentration on his face. The noise seemed louder still.

Gah! He exclaimed silently but kept his hand on the doorknob.

He dropped his head and looked at his feet, nodding rhythmically as though keeping time with an unheard beat. Then, finally, the rumbling and clanking came again. He looked up, grinning, and pulled the door open in one fluid movement. He didn't wait, but stepped boldly out into a hallway, which was narrow and dark and empty.

He looked both ways, swivelling where he stood, then picked a direction at random. They both seemed an equal choice.


	2. Chapter 2

Hand in hand, Marion walked on with the boy. She moved with purpose, though she had no real destination in mind; she'd no idea where she was or where she might go. She had no sense for the way she'd come or the way she might now be headed. It was like she turned in circles, though she couldn't say whether she'd come this way before or not; nothing and everything seemed familiar.

There were more stairs ahead, another intersected hallway, but had they been here before? These stairs headed up, not down, this hallway headed to the right, not left, and yet it might have been the mirror image of the last such turning.

Lost in thought she forgot herself, striding out into the open. At her side the boy pulled up short, and her arm stretched between them as he did not loosen his grip. She looked down, seeing his mouth open in wordless alarm, his eyes wide. He stared over her shoulder. She looked up, over the top of his head. He tugged urgently at her hand and she turned slowly, stepping back as she did so, almost stumbling over the boy.

The shadows seemed to move like a writhing mass, blacker than black, darker than the surrounding darkness. She stepped forward again, putting herself between this thing and the boy and breathed.

The swirling mass was approaching, humming as it came, and she inched backwards, moving the boy behind her, aiming for the stairs. She didn't look back, her eyes fixed on the blackness ahead. A tendril extended out into the air, seeming to leap toward them and behind her she heard the boy gasp in horror. Too loud.

At once the darkness seemed to take form, coalescing before their eyes as she moved him back toward the stairs. It was a huge, floating mass that defied any attempt at description. But it was getting bigger and closer, and it was humming, the sound filling the building around them and reverberating through the hallways.

Marion's heart raced, the panic returning as she breathed rapidly, watching as the form approached. Though vague and diaphanous in appearance, its movements were sharp; she imagined something pointed and dangerous beneath the cloud.

With her spare hand she reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the tool the boy had found. She meant to throw it, some hope amongst the rapid-fire thoughts flowing through her head that the distraction might earn them an opportunity to escape.

But in her haste she fumbled, the device slipping in her fingers, and as she grasped at it once more, her other hand still firmly enclosed in the boy's, her fingers found a button. It emitted a loud, high-pitched whining noise that shocked her almost as much as it did the creature, which shrank back immediately, the humming also subsiding as it moved away, flitting about in a way reminiscent of an injured animal fleeing from harm.

No idea what she was doing, she held the thing up before her, still holding her finger down on the button, and then moved the boy again. A few more steps and they were at the stairs, and as they began to make their way quickly upwards, she released the button and the quiet returned. There was no sound besides the soft pattering of their feet in flight.

They ran, pausing to peer around hallways, fearful of pursuit, till they came to an open door. Looking in, Marion saw a wardrobe, a rare adornment in these rooms, and pulled the boy in after her, pushing the door to and urged him on in.

He settled down in the corner, crouching down over his feet, curled up into a little ball, his cap askew on his head. Marion pulled the doors of the wardrobe in as far as she could, though she couldn't close them entirely from the inside. Then she too crouched down, wrapping her arms around her knees, not sure what she was waiting for but too afraid to move on any further just then.

...

Jack couldn't make any sense of it. He'd seen nobody and heard little aside from the rumbling and creaking since arriving, finding room after empty room, and more closed doors besides. What noise there was came too infrequently to make it practical to open them all, and anyway he had no idea where he was going or what he was meant to be doing. He would be sure, the next time he saw the Doctor, to complain about the lack of adequate instructions.

Something ahead in the otherwise nondescript hallway caught his eye; a slightly ajar door. He walked slowly, putting one foot carefully in front of the other, and stopped just outside the door, reaching out one hand to gently push it open. It creaked slightly, but the sound was not so bad, and nothing came for him. So far, nothing had come for him.

He had the strangest premonition as he opened the door; what if this were some sort of surprise or elaborate prank? It wasn't his birthday, but when you're a time traveller it's probably a bit hard to reckon those sorts of things.

With a barely audible sigh, he stepped into the room. It was empty, but he walked in further all the same. He turned and looked around, breathing in as he considered the ceiling, wondering again about the source of what little light there was.

There was something different about this room. He turned, cocking his head to one side as he regarded the wardrobe. That was new. As he stepped forward he heard something; the sharp intake of breath.

He moved carefully, hands extended before him, guessing - and hoping - that he was about to uncover someone scared and harmless and not the opposite.

"Hey," he whispered as softly as he could manage. "Is there someone in there?"

There was no response, so he edged forward and took hold of the door.

"I'm going to open this, ok? Don't worry, I'm here to help."

He pulled first one side of the double door, then the other. Crouched down as he was, he found himself face to face with an angry looking woman, one trembling finger held up before her tightly-closed lips. Her makeup was a little smudged at the corners of her eyes, as though she might have been crying, but her blonde hair was neatly parted, falling into a bob around her face. He guessed her age at late-20s and by her clothing figured she worked in an office somewhere, early 21st Century.

"Oh right," Jack said, then smiled as reassuringly as he could manage. Shifting his weight over his feet he brought one finger up to his face in imitation of the woman and nodded. Quiet, he mouthed.

He turned then to regard the other figure, much smaller and curled over himself. When the child looked up, one hazel eye coming into view, Jack spread his hand in greeting. He waved and mouthed Hi.

He looked behind him, noting that they were still alone, and listening he heard nothing approaching. He motioned to them, whispering "Come out."

He beckoned again, watching as the woman looked from him to the boy and back again. Then she touched a hand to the boy's shoulder and stepped out of the wardrobe. Jack reached out a hand to steady her but she ignored him, then turned to offer hers to the boy. He looked up then, and Jack got a good look at him, a small boy dressed for some sort of team sport, of similar vintage to the woman, as they stepped out of the wardrobe.

Smile fixed on his face, Jack crouched down before the boy and offered his hand in greeting. The boy looked up at him with serious eyes. He did not return the smile or take Jack's hand. Seeing that he'd been rejected he smiled at the woman, though she did not return the gesture either, and stood, slapping his hands together in a habitual motion that earned him a look of angry reproach from the woman.

Sorry, he mouthed. Then he indicated toward the door with his thumb, raising his eyebrows in query and she nodded. The boy remained impassive, clinging to her hand but moving without complaint as they made their way back out into the hallway.

They came to another set of stairs and Jack stopped, turning with hands on hips to look around. He put a hand out to stop the others as they approached, indicating with a finger that they should go back, look for another set of stairs.

The woman shook her head quite firmly. They would go up.

Down, Jack pointed, miming their escape once safely delivered to the ground floor, but Marion shook her head again. There was no way out down there, she managed to tell him without speaking.

"Oh."

The rattling and grinding sounds were so frequent that he almost didn't notice them anymore, but they all ran on faster when they came, using the sound to cover the noise they made when moving.

At the top of the stairs they rounded a corner and suddenly they weren't in a house anymore. This corridor was bare concrete floors and brick walls, like an industrial setting rather than a residence.

Inspecting this different masonry, Jack nodded to himself, smiling with satisfaction that they might actually be getting somewhere now. He had no way of telling whether it was the right direction or not, but with the change in scene came the sense that they were making progress.

There were doors here, all closed. They were bigger, wider than the ones downstairs (was it truly downstairs or up, Jack wasn't sure, he'd come up some stairs and down others, it was hard to tell where he was). They didn't check, but they had the look of being locked to him.

He almost didn't notice the noise, but then the woman was there, her spare hand gripping his upper arm, scared eyes finding his.

Humming.

There was humming coming from somewhere and it was getting closer.

She grabbed at him, pulling him along and they hurried along the dimly lit corridor as the humming came closer and closer. But then they stopped, the way forward barred by another of these bigger doors. The woman reached for the handle but it wouldn't budge. Easing her aside, Jack tried. As he'd suspected, it was locked.

He stepped back, considering the door. If he put his back into it, maybe he could knock it in. Turning to look over his shoulder and seeing nothing, though the sound was getting louder as whatever it was got closer, he gritted his teeth and squared his shoulder. He was going to hurt himself, there was no avoiding it. But at least he knew he wouldn't stay hurt for long.

Seeing his intention, the woman moved off to the side, shielding the boy behind her. Jack winked and smiled again, suggesting with a shrug that this was nothing new to him and, just as he was about to slam his body into this solid barrier, he noticed her pull something nervously from her jacket pocket.

He paused. She clutched this thing before her in one trembling hand, staring off into the darkness beyond. He turned and stepped forward to look closer and then gasped.

"Hey," he whispered urgently, putting one hand out toward her. "Give me that, will you?"

She frowned at him, though whether in response to his talking or his request for the screwdriver he couldn't tell. Either way, he didn't have time for niceties.

"Sorry," he told her, snatching it from her hands.

As he lifted it before him, aiming for the door and hoping for the best, he was aware of hairs prickling on the back of his neck. Something was coming.

It didn't take much and the door lock sprang open. As he turned to usher her through he saw it, the moving darkness that hummed. There was no way to know what might wait for them on the other side of this door, but he could hope it was better than this. He pushed them through, sliding in afterwards and slamming the door shut behind. He used the screwdriver again to lock the door once more.

He breathed in relief, and turning around again he half-expected some other emergency to present itself, but his companions were still there and nothing had tried to attack them yet, so Jack congratulated himself on improving their situation.

"Hey," he tried to get the woman's attention, wanting to ask about the screwdriver, but she was walking on already.

They were inside a large room, more bare concrete and brick. They all noticed the thing in the centre of the room at the same time, moving as one toward it. It might be dangerous, but they wouldn't know till they got there. Jack moved faster, stepping in front of the woman and urging her to hold back. She ignored him.

There was a noise, like a moan that might have been one of those creatures and they all stopped, standing rigid and unmoving. Jack motioned again with a wave of his hand for the woman to hang back and once more she ignored him, frowning as she kept pace with him. It was just a few more metres to whatever was in the centre of the room. As they got closer, inching forward as quietly as possible, Jack could make out more brick; it looked like a wall, but then they heard the moaning again, and a clank and shuffle of someone moving around. It seemed to be coming from the other side.

Giving up his attempts to make the others stay back, Jack walked on, coming round the side of wall. They saw the legs first, spread out on the ground before this man, black pants and shoes that were scuffed at the soles. His head was bowed as though at rest, though he was moving a little and was obviously the source of the noise they'd heard. His arms were thrust above him in the air, his hands dangling from the bracelets of iron shackles.

Jack recognised him. "Hey," he whispered, nudging the man's shoe with one boot.

The Doctor was muttering to himself. "Fine, fine, spit me out. I won't take it personally."

The woman tapped Jack on the arm. Looking, he saw her clasp one palm across her mouth and then point at the man, who was still talking.

"But it's so bloody dark; who can find a thing down here?"

"Hey," Jack said again, this time speaking with a little more force.

The man's head snapped up. He looked so old now, his face lined and his hair greying. He frowned, squinting a little to see Jack.

"Quiet," Jack whispered, putting one finger to his lips in demonstration.

"Oh it's fine, don't worry about it." The sound of his voice was shocking after the quiet of the previous hours and the woman hissed at him in alarm.

"I said it's fine!" He yelled then, sneering at the woman.

They waited, bodies tense and ready for flight, but there was no humming, no approaching shadow.

"See?" the Doctor told them. "It's all sound-proofed. We can yell as loud as we like and nobody will ever hear us." His head turned then to peer at the boy who huddled still by the woman's side. "They put me in here because I was too noisy." He winked. The boy shrank back behind the woman.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked Jack, who had crouched now beside him and was examining the chains. "And what are you doing here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you." He rattled his chains.

"You don't know why I'm here?"

"Should I?" He paused, his face screwed up in irritation. "But never mind that, get me out of here, will you?"

"Right. Sure thing, Doctor." Jack brandished the screwdriver with a smile.

"Ahhhhhh!" the Doctor exclaimed as his arms fell to his sides as Jack released them one by one. "My sonic screwdriver, please." Jack placed it into his outstretched palm.

"Oh, this is good," the Doctor said, getting up to his feet, waving away Jack's offer of help. "I can manage."

"Yeah, you sure can."

"There's no need for that." He wagged the screwdriver at Jack as he spoke. He grinned and then he turned serious once more, looking to the woman and boy.

"Now, I know who you are, but who is this?" The woman looked worriedly from the Doctor to Jack and back again. "It's alright, you can speak, you know."

"It's fine," Jack told her, making an effort to moderate his tone. She looked to him like a deer in the headlights.

The Doctor watched on intently, saying nothing, as the woman opened her mouth to speak. There was a noise, like air passing through her throat, almost like a sigh, but that was all. The Doctor said nothing, but he didn't seem surprised. She tried again, but still couldn't manage to say a word.

The boy tried next, producing a quiet, strangled squeak before he, too, gave up.

"Interesting," the Doctor said.

"Is it?" Jack asked, turning to face him. "It's ok. I'm Jack," he told them. "And this is the Doctor."

The Doctor raised one wan hand as he turned away, already lost in thought and muttering to himself again.

Marion pressed her lips together, then opened them wide, then brought her teeth together, made a grimace and then brought her tongue to the top of her palate with deliberate care.

Not understanding, Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't..."

She repeated this performance and once more Jack apologised.

"Marion. Her name is Marion. Any fool could figure out what she's trying to tell you." The Doctor didn't even turn around to speak to him, his attention apparently elsewhere.

Jack ignored the insult. "Hello Marion. And your son?"

Marion shook her head. Then shrugged. The boy looked up at him fearfully and did not try to communicate anything.

"I don't think I understand..."

"Oh for goodness sake. Look at him, look at her. He's not her son." The Doctor spun around then, walking back to come closer. "What was he, just some nearby child who clutched at your hand and your heartstrings?"

Marion shrugged, half smiling at the Doctor's words.

"How kind of you." He didn't sound like he meant it.

"OK, so anyway, we need to get out of here." Jack stood with his hands on his hips, hoping that some course of action would present itself.

Marion nodded, her eyes flitting from Jack to the Doctor. She waited expectantly. When neither responded, she pointed upwards with one finger. Go up, she meant.

"We find stairs and sometimes they head up and sometimes down. I'm not even sure where we are anymore." Jack spread his hands before him, quite apologetic for this lapse. He was accustomed to having the answers, didn't like this sensation of confusion.

Marion nodded. She understood. She pointed up again, however. Then she shrugged. Jack presumed she preferred to move rather than stand still.

"It's all moving, shifting about," the Doctor said. He wasn't looking at any of them, staring off still at something on the darkened wall.

"What is? The building?"

"Yes." He turned then, pirouetting on the spot and strode toward them. "All roads lead to Rome. Or, in this case, the kitchen."

"Kitchen?" Jack asked.

"Yes. It sounds fluffier than slaughter house, don't you think?"

Jack's mouth opened involuntarily as he considered this. "We're the food?"

"Exactly. Well," he paused, spinning on the spot again. "They are."

Marion frowned and the boy snuggled in closer by her side. Looking over them, the Doctor squinted in displeasure. He pulled out the screwdriver once more, adjusted some settings and moved it over the boy's head, then lifted it before himself to check the results. "Hmmm," he said, then put the screwdriver away again.

"You and I, we're too old, Jack, the meat's been toughened by the years. Time travel will do that. I think it's probably some side effect of being in the vortex, makes us smell off to them. They didn't even bother killing me, just locked me in here."

He moved backwards and away, motioning with his head for Jack to follow. Flashing a smile toward Marion, Jack went.

"What?"

The Doctor leaned in to speak, as though in conspiracy. "You notice anything unusual about that kid?"

"Ah, don't know. He's quiet."

"Yes. The vocal cords are the first things they knock out. What else?"

Jack frowned, shaking his head. "Don't know."

"Look at his head." He whispered now, and Jack looked over at the boy, who was cuddled in close to Marion.

He still couldn't see anything in particular, but then Marion put one hand upon the boy's bare head, his cap apparently lost in their flight from the creature, stroking him, but as she did she stopped, raising her hand before her, alarm spreading across her features.

"What is it?" Jack asked, jogging over to them, looking on in confusion at the slick mess on Marion's hand. He looked then at the boy's head and found more, as though he'd been covered in some sort of clear gloop. "Doctor?"

"Don't touch it," he warned as he approached, his screwdriver at the ready.

Marion rounded on him, her hand still raised before her.

"Never mind," the Doctor told her. "It probably won't hurt _you_."

She made a face and wiped her palm on her skirt with distaste.

"You said 'they'? There's something out there? Moving things around, knocking out vocal cords or whatever?"

"Yes."

"I haven't seen anything, I've just heard noises. What are they?"

"Just shadows, things that go bump in the night."

Jack raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "But seriously, Doctor."

"Oh, I'm very serious. No relation of the Vashta Nerada, you understand, the Ral d'Nor don't just live in the shadows and eat anything that comes by, they're actually the shy, retiring sort. Very quiet, under normal circumstances, they can't abide the full light of the sun or loud noises. The humming - have you heard the humming? - is their way to shut it out, it's like a cancelling wave to spare their ears. But they get ravenous. Oh, they get so hungry, and when it's bad enough, they come out and hunt. They have this space ship - the interior is reformed in line with the psychic patterns from their prey; here we have a mish-mash of estate housing and factory, it seems - but their society is still very primal. What we have here is a family unit, parents, brothers, sisters, maybe some aunts and uncles." He paused then, frowning. "I don't know precisely, I didn't get a chance to ask."

"This is a space ship? It's pretty big."

"It's much smaller than it seems. These Ral d'Nor roam space, rounding up their meat when they need to - they like it fresh you understand, can't blame them - and then..."

"And then we get out of here before they eat us," Jack finished the sentence for him.

The Doctor stopped, looking up at Jack in apparent surprise. "Yes, excellent suggestion."

"OK then." He waited, swaying a little on the spot. "Doctor?"

"Yes? Oh yes, I will have to think of something. Well it's too much to ask that you contribute some ideas."

"I don't actually know what's going on."

"Did I not just explain everything to you? What? Do you need diagrams or something?"

"I've never heard of these Rad d'Nor things before. How am I supposed to know what to do about them?"

"Do? We do nothing about them. We simply leave them to it."

"We just let them eat people?"

"Look, it happens. Everybody's a meal for something. Potentially. And humans could probably do with spending a little bit of time at the bottom of the food chain."

Marion stared at the two men, her free hand on her hip. Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head slightly to one side, looking extremely unimpressed. She lifted her hand then, jabbing the air before her with her index finger.

Out, she motioned toward the door they'd come in. Up, she pointed to the ceiling.

"Seems as good an idea as any," Jack suggested.

The Doctor nodded, moving rapidly toward the door. He stopped suddenly, spinning around to face Jack again. "Wait! How _did_ you get here?"

Jack smiled. "Spoilers..."

"Oh." He thought to himself for a second. "Well, that's good news for me, then."

Marion watched them in some confusion. At her side, the boy looked pale and exhausted.

"It's alright buddy, we're going to get you out of here," Jack told him. The boy's nod in response was almost imperceptible. Marion's expression was quite serious, her head turning slightly to fix her gaze on the Doctor.

He smiled almost glumly and spread his hands before him, shrugging slightly. "We do what we can."

She nodded, just once, then returned her attention to the boy. He looked up at her and they exchanged smiles, then waited.

"To the kitchen, then," the Doctor declared, pulling his black jacket straight. He extracted his screwdriver once more and levelled it at the door. "Ready?"

"Ready," Jack affirmed.

The door opened and the Doctor stepped out, returning a second or two later with a smile, waving the others on to follow him.

Out in the hallway they seemed to be alone, but the Doctor kept his screwdriver at the ready.

Jack remained close by his side, urging Marion and the boy to stay right behind him. "So," he whispered. "Are you travelling by yourself now?"

"Sometimes I do. What's it to you?"

"Just making conversation." They moved on, arriving at a set of stairs that Jack was sure now headed in the opposite direction to the last time they were there. "So, we go to the kitchen, then what?"

"Then we see what is on the other side. But..." he paused, looking around, checking readings on his screwdriver, "We should stop talking now."


	3. Chapter 3

They walked, sometimes up and sometimes down, along hallways and whichever way this Doctor led them. Marion felt herself tiring, though she kept up, adamant that she would not be left behind now that salvation might be at hand. She was hot, a trickle of sweat running down the centre of her back, and she pushed a damp lock of hair back off her face. By her side the boy was flagging. He stumbled sometimes, his feet dragging along the floor as she pulled him on. He was one of them, her little charge, and she had no intention of leaving him behind.

She could see, even in what little, gloomy light there was, that the goo was spreading, asserting itself over more and more of his body, and as it spread his legs seemed to grow weaker, his eyelids heavier. Just as she thought she would have to get the attention of one of the men, to seek their help with the boy, she realised with a start that they were back somewhere familiar.

It was the low, open room where they'd first found themselves lined up with the others, though there was nobody here now. When she stopped, the two men did likewise, the Doctor spinning around and whispering: "Almost there."

He seemed to speak with deliberate precision, his mouth moving with exaggerated care to form his words, delivered in his rapid, Scottish accent. He was old and greying, and wore an oddly formal black suit with red lining. The ensemble, his entire being was somehow incongruous, and yet he and this other man, no less strangely dressed in an entirely different way, apparently knew each other and moved and spoke with such confidence in themselves - particularly the older one - that she felt compelled to follow them. She was certain this was their best chance of escape from whatever held them here. And she was equally certain she had no other option in any case. These beings had captured her, made her mute and now intended to eat her. It seemed safe to presume that this Doctor, whoever he was, might offer somewhat better prospects.

The Doctor pointed then to the door ahead, beyond which all they could see was black, blacker even than that, a true black of nothingness like the depths of space in Marion's imagination, the absence of all light. And then, as she stood looking, this black lightened to a more usual sort of darkness.

Leaning in close toward her, the Doctor whispered as he waved them on, "Try not to look at it."

Then he stood, indicating with the inclination of his head, the shift of one shoulder, that they should approach this door. Jack waved them on, and she could tell that he sought to reassure them that he would keep them safe, misinterpreting their slowness to move as fear, when in fact it was the boy's inability to keep up, even at this moderate pace. Marion pulled him on regardless and he came without complaint, not that he could have spoken in any case.

As they walked she saw the Doctor pointing out something on the floor to Jack. There. There. And there. She looked, noting a glistening of something on the ground and, bending to look closer, she recognised the same slime that she had found on the boy's head.

The boy kept his eyes fixed on some point in front of him and put one foot in front of the other, evidently as resolute about continuing on as Marion was and this time it was she who was pulled along after him.

The Doctor turned to them as he neared the door, lifting one finger quite unnecessarily to his lips to mime shushing, then turned away again to regard the door. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, standing quite still, until suddenly he jolted into action again and stepped through. Jack motioned for them to follow, indicating that he would come in last behind them.

Looking down, he frowned at the boy as they passed by, but Marion moved on without response, her eyes on the Doctor. He moved slowly, picking his way with care across the room. It was huge. She couldn't see enough to make out much detail, but the walls here seemed rounded and uneven, more like a cave than a room as in the rest of this place. On the floor was more of the goo. It was everywhere, heaped in piles in places, and amid all this, out of the corner of her eyes, she made out the shifting of shadows, the black of nothingness interposing itself on the darkness.

The Doctor stopped, turning to confront them. He pointed with two fingers toward Marion and then turned the fingers back on himself, aiming for his eyes, then pointed to the far side of the room. This was their objective. As her eyes strayed out to the sides of the room again, the Doctor's pronged fingers brought her attention back to him. He pointed again at his eyes and at their destination. Marion nodded. Behind her, she felt the gentle touch of Jack's hand on her back and she leant forward to avoid him, suddenly uncomfortable, and shuffled forward slowly into the room.

They were not alone in here, that much was clear, but they did as they were told. A glance to her left confirmed that Jack, too, kept his eyes ahead. As they moved on further, weaving their way around the larger mounds of slime, the humming began. It was low and quiet at first, spiking sometimes into louder outbursts that quickly dissipated, the sound in the room falling back into the low background hum.

Though she tried, Marion could not entirely ignore the movements that drew her eyes. These beings, the Ral d'Nor, were here but their movements seemed small, contained, as though they were waiting, just hanging around in the shadows. This is the kitchen, she reminded herself, a shudder passing over her as she considered what they must be doing here.

The Doctor paused, looking back. Jack got his attention, motioning with a thumb to the darkness about them, mouthing: What are they doing?

Eating, the Doctor mimed in response. He turned back immediately, deciding on a direction round a mound of goo and started off again.

When the humming pitched up again but this time did not ease off quickly, he looked back once more, his face revealing his anxiety, but he did not stop. If anything he moved more quickly. In response, Jack and Marion also picked up their pace, though the boy was lagging once more.

The humming grew louder still and Marion was sure she saw more movement now, the darkness mingling with black that seemed to grow in height and girth. Her heart rate was climbing, her breath coming hard and fast and she had to struggle to remain quiet, concentrating all the time on keeping her footing amid the slime, which was deeper and slicker the further into the room they came.

And how much further, she wondered, hurrying along after the two men as best she could with the boy still in tow. They were falling farther and farther behind. Seeing this, Jack turned as though to help them but the Doctor grabbed at him, urging him on, pointing at something behind Marion and the boy, which she did not want to turn and see, and then at a door that was just coming into view ahead.

It must be the way out.

She pulled at the boy's hand, feeling him dragging behind her as he struggled to keep up. He tripped, falling and she felt his hand, slick now with goo, slide out of her grasp as he crumpled to the ground.

The humming intensified, rising and falling all around them and echoing off the walls in this vast room. She reached down without hesitation, resisting the urge to seek out the source of the noise amid the shadows, and hauled him up again. He seemed to sag in her arms, but then gritted his teeth and nodded as she pointed toward the Doctor and Jack, who were not far ahead of them and closing on the door.

The boy had lost his jacket and was now covered in slime, his clothing in tatters, but he kept moving, Marion helping him along as best she could.

...

Jack watched as Marion came with the boy. He would have gone to help, but the Doctor gripped his arm, shaking his head quiet sternly. He mustn't go, the Doctor meant. And he mustn't touch them.

They'd come to the door now, but reaching out a hand to open it they found no doorknob or other handle. The Doctor had his screwdriver, of course, but when he raised it and took aim at the door, Jack grabbed at him, holding it tightly in his grip and refusing to let go. He shook his head. Using it would make too much noise and bring these creatures down on them. They were already stirring; Jack could hear the humming that grew louder and louder. It was too great a risk to Marion and the boy, who were still coming.

This was the kitchen, the slaughterhouse, in here they brought their victims and ate them. And this slime? What was that, some sort of waste matter, some secretion of these aliens? He couldn't ask the Doctor just now, but it was the same slime he'd seen on the boy and the same slime the Doctor had warned him he must not touch.

Finally, Marion and the boy made it and he smiled with relief at them. Marion attempted a smile in response, though her fear was evident. The boy barely glanced at him. He seemed completely spent and hardly aware of his surroundings at all.

Behind them, the room grew darker, the blackness was moving about. Jack watched the shadows that were not shadows, though he knew he shouldn't, even when the Doctor tried to draw his eyes away.

Marion mouthed: What now?

The Doctor pointed to the door and then to his screwdriver. He meant to go through this way.

Jack shook his head, pointed back the way they'd come, despite the rising mass of black and the hum that filled the room.

Marion shook her head in turn, pointing to the door and nodding at the Doctor. With one last look over her head at the darkness, the hum filling his ears, Jack shrugged and nodded, as well. He motioned for Marion and the boy to move closer, to be ready to run as soon as possible.

The Doctor breathed in, raised his eyebrows and activated his screwdriver. It was a low setting, but Jack sensed a reaction in the room behind them. The shadows moved, the blackness approached and the humming intensified.

The door did not open.

The Doctor grimaced, one eyebrow descending as the other rose, and tried again on a higher setting. The sound emitted by the sonic device was louder this time and the reaction from the room seemed correspondingly greater. Now the shadows seemed to take form amid the darkness. Here he saw the outline of a snout, there an extended claw, a limb, an eye, glowing for an instant before disappearing within the darkness that came closer and closer as the humming grew louder and louder still.

They could yell now between themselves and nobody would hear a thing the sound was so loud and Jack did. "Come on Doctor! Hurry!"

The Doctor cried out in frustration as he levelled his sonic screwdriver at the door once more, this time at a higher setting still and though the sound was tremendous Jack could barely hear it over the humming, which was a low, so very low bass that he could feel it vibrating within his chest, threatening to shake him apart.

The shadows converged, rushing toward them, more form and shape appearing from the darkness, but then behind him the door finally opened and he felt the rush of air escaping as the Doctor and the others ran on. Jack backed through after them, making sure that Marion and the boy were clear before shoving the door shut behind them. He slammed it with all his might, holding it tight as the Doctor sealed it with his sonic screwdriver.

The door shuddered with the weight of bodies heaving against it; Jack didn't think it would hold long.

"Run!" the Doctor told them, as so they did, Jack hurrying after the Doctor and Marion doing her best with the boy who could barely shuffle along.

Behind them they could hear the humming still over the thump and thud of the attack on the door.

"Come on!" the Doctor cried, showing no inclination to slow down or help the other two.

Jack held back, urging them on, still mindful of not touching them. "We're almost there," he said, though he'd no idea if this were true or not. It seemed a good thing to say.

As he watched, calling to them, the boy stopped. His knees buckled, his legs appearing to bend beneath him as he fell over, collapsing down to the ground. Losing her grip on his hand, Marion watched, too, and just as she bent to reach for him again his body gave out entirely, oozing slime now replacing skin and flesh and bone and hair. The boy disintegrated before their eyes, leaving only a pile of goo and half-rotted clothing.

Marion stared in wide-eyed shock, and Jack approached her, reaching out a hand without thinking to lead her on. There was nothing more they could do for the boy.

"Stop." The Doctor's voice came to them from behind. "Don't touch her."

"What is your problem?" Jack exclaimed, losing patience with the man. "If I want to help her, I will."

"You may be immortal Captain Jack, but I don't think you'd fancy being eaten over and over again, digested into a slimy goo of peptides and acids and simple sugars."

"I've been eaten before," Jack told him, though he retracted the arm he'd offered to Marion all the same.

Marion's face was expressionless as she watched on. She swallowed, recognising perhaps that there was no choice now but to keep moving, and began to walk once more toward the Doctor.

"We'll get you out of here, don't worry." Jack spoke softly now. "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," the Doctor advised him, then turned to run on again. Behind them a loud bang announced the opening of the door and the humming gained volume. "Run!" he said again.

They rounded a corner, seeing a ladder leading up at the end of the hallway.

"Up there," the Doctor declared. "Almost there."

"Almost there," Jack repeated to himself as much as for Marion's benefit.

At the foot of the ladder the Doctor waved Marion on first, then Jack, waiting with his screwdriver in hand. They were coming.

It was big, Jack could tell, but though shapes came and went, the impression of a nose, a limb, teeth, perhaps, he couldn't make out an exact form. It was just black, so dark it was as though it sucked what little light there was out of the room as it moved closer and closer.

Marion waved at him as he paused in his climb, and so he dragged his eyes away from this unfolding spectacle just as the Doctor raised his weapon.

"Back off or I'll use this," Jack heard the Doctor say. "Oh, you know what this is, don't you? And you know how terrible I taste."

Looking down from the top of the ladder Jack saw the shapes seem to waver, their advance stalled.

"We're leaving now, my friend and I. I suggest you back off."

At this the darkness seemed to lunge forward at the Doctor, who pressed home the controls on the screwdriver, emitting a loud, piercing noise that drove the darkness back.

"Doctor!" Jack yelled out a warning at the sight of more darkness, so thick and absolute he guessed there must be a great many of these creatures all amassing just beyond the Doctor's position.

"I said: Back. Off!" The Doctor aimed his weapon once more, and this time the air was shattered with the sound of the screwdriver and Jack and Marion were driven to the ground, hands over the ears.

When they looked up again and Jack shook his head to try and clear it, the Doctor was there, just bounding off the top rung of the ladder.

"Come on!" he said. "Do you need a personal invitation?"

Jack and Marion picked themselves up and ran, following the Doctor to another door, which opened before him with a blast from his screwdriver and here, finally, was the sun shine, light streaming in so bright that Jack screwed up his eyes, raising a hand to shield his face as he slowed down, unable to see.

"Come out!" the Doctor insisted. "Into the light."

Obediently, Jack walked on, blinking his eyes furiously to help them adjust. As his sight returned he looked, seeing that Marion was not there. He turned back to the doorway and, finding her hesitating just before the edge of the light, he called to her. "Come on Marion, come on!"

She looked back, perhaps seeing the approaching creatures; Jack could certainly hear them again now. They sounded angry; the Doctor had that affect on people.

Marion inched forward, one tremulous step into the sun, but as the light struck her leg through holes torn in her stockings she pulled back suddenly, her mouth gaping open as though she might have cried out if she'd been able. In her features, Jack saw the signs of pain and shock.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He was asking the Doctor, as well as Marion.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. He spoke sadly, directing himself to Marion. "Understand, if there was anything I could do, I would, but it's too late."

"What do you mean? Doctor?" Jack was frantic not to lose both of his charges. "Isn't this why you sent me here? I was too late?"

"It was always too late, even before you arrived. It's how they eat, you see. They harvest and begin the digestive process from the start, applying the enzymes that break down their meat into that goo; that's what they ingest. She's already changing." The Doctor moved closer to the doorway as he spoke. "She's walking food and soon she'll be a pile of goo. The extreme photosensitivity is another way they keep their food in line, you see? You can't escape and run off somewhere else they can't get you. We're safe out here in the sunlight."

Standing still and impassive through this, Marion nodded. She breathed, not turning around as the noise and movement behind her seemed to close upon her. She seemed to be thinking. Looking directly at the Doctor and then Jack, she smiled and then she stepped forward into the light.

"No, wait!" Jack cried, but he was too late, and there was nothing he could do in any case.

She couldn't scream; her mouth opened but there was no sound. But it must hurt as she burned. It doesn't take long for her body to be reduced to nothing.

The Doctor nodded to himself. He looked glum for a moment, contemplating these events, then smiled, turning to Jack with a little laugh. "Well, good for her, hey?"

"What?"

"I said good for her. She didn't get eaten."

"What was all this for?" Jack insisted, ignoring the Doctor's comments. "Why did you send me here if it wasn't to help them?" He stabbed an index finger toward the darkened doorway as he spoke.

"I needed someone to bring me my sonic screwdriver, I suppose. I don't know, I haven't done it yet."

"Sometimes, Doctor, sometimes..."

"Oh come on, you know how this works, Captain Jack, don't play the innocent with me." His eyes narrowed as he tipped his head to one side. Jack couldn't help feeling as though the Doctor's gaze saw very deep inside him, indeed, and he shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

"Come on, anyway," the Doctor said, brightening suddenly. "They'll be heading off again into the dark once they've finished their meal."

Jack followed the Doctor through the familiar door into an unfamiliar interior. "Changed again."

"You like?"

Jack shrugged. What did he care?

"Don't let it eat you up," the Doctor suggested, doing something at the controls. "You've more important grist to chew."

"Are you making jokes about this?"

"What's wrong with a little gallows humour?" He paused, looking at Jack intently now. "Too soon?"

"Yeah. A little."

"I'm trying something new." He shrugged, looking down at his work.

Jack approached behind him, inhaling deeply. It was over, he supposed; time to get back to his real life.

The Doctor spun around to face him. "She stuck it to them, though, yeah? She's a bit marvellous, I think."

"Yeah. I guess she was."

There was a pause in the conversation then that would suffice for a moment's silence in memory of the dead. So long Marion, we never really knew you.

"So." The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Where to?"

Just like that, the sombre mood was broken. Jack was willing to play along. "Well, for starters, I'd like my vortex manipulator back." He gave the Doctor a wry smile as he spoke.

"Ah, yes," the Doctor replied as Jack stepped forward to help input their destination. The engines began working. "Anything else I should know?"

"You gave me this." Jack pulled from his pocket the folded piece of paper with his instructions and handed it over. "Maybe you could include more detail next time?"

The engines stopped; they'd landed.

"Next time?" The Doctor opened the paper and read. "No, this'll do nicely."

"But if you just hand me the same piece of paper, then where did that come from...?"

"Don't you just love a mystery?" Both men grinned. "So? I give you this, I send you there...?"

"And you snatch my vortex manipulator."

"Good thinking. That way you can't just escape."

"Yeah."

The Doctor approached the door. "I'll just be a minute."


End file.
